


Meetings, Dinners, and Regrets

by Merfilly



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-18
Updated: 2011-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-14 01:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1248349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles reveals himself to Erik, and they approach the future peacefully... for now</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meetings, Dinners, and Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> This was written long before X-Men: First Class, and picks up after "The Cure"

The man was aware only of his chessboard, ignoring the homo sapiens cluttering his field of vision. He was determined to recover his full range of powers. Every day, he made progress, moving the pieces little by little. It was all a matter of patience and skill. In the meantime, he reached out to his contacts, looking for a new brotherhood, a cadre to build his dream around.

"Always thinking of the future methods to bring our planet to annihilation."

The voice was startling, hearkening to memories destroyed by the foolhardy girl he had thought was his ace in the war against his oppressors. Eric looked up, certain it would be his Raven, right hand through so many toils, here for revenge.

But no, Charles Xavier was there in the flesh, an impossibility for more reasons than just oblivion. The mental touch at his mind was familiar, knocking at the gates of his inner sanctum, always polite, ever so insistent.

"I should have known you would not let such events hamper you from being the persecution of a conscience I have no desire to own," Eric told the visitor at his chess game.

"Hello, Eric." Charles indicated the chair opposite his once-friend, now-nemesis. "May I?"

"You would no matter my answer, no doubt to beat your narrow views into my hardened hide," Eric commented with feigned indifference. In reality, he was very much the oft-maligned cat of superstition in regards to Charles' impossible status.

"I haven't come today for debate nor persuasion, Eric." Charles took the chair, surveyed the board as it stood, and raised a hand over the paler pieces, eyebrow raised in Eric's direction for permission to join the game.

For answer, Eric concentrated, and slowly, sliding on the smooth surface, the pieces returned to their beginning places.

"I am not the only one recovering," Charles commented. "But then, you have always had a survivor's gift for overcoming odds, I would say."

Eric gave that comment a small chuckle. "Charles, in that, we have never been too far dissimilar." He noted that Charles gave him the quiet, shy smile of the past, the one that they had shared before declaring war on each other's principles in totality.

"Perhaps not, Eric." Charles picked up his first piece, and made the opening move on the board. Eric found himself responding absently, trying to puzzle through the mystery of Charles, hale and hearty, here without an escort of enough power to take him into custody, sitting opposite him as if the past years had not driven a solid wedge between them, that had then fallen into the gaping chasm of mutual incomprehension.

There was a lengthy period of silence, that was not nearly as uncomfortable as Eric might have expected, in which they each just moved, countered, and gambled on their own stream of thought guiding them into a winning strategy. Per their custom, when the game had no clear resolution at fifty moves, they each settled away from the board, looking at one another now that the familiarity of custom had been put back into place after such a long absence.

"Why?"

"How?"

The two words were spoken almost on top of one another, so indicative of their speakers, that each man had to smile.

"You know the answer to 'why', Charles. You have known me for how long now?" Eric chided him gently. "I saw an opportunity, and I took advantage of it, as ever."

"You helped engineer the situation, though, by promoting mutant-kind as a force to be feared," Charles countered, though he kept his tone to the purely intellectual side of this battle. It was effective, as Eric took no umbrage and merely shook his head.

"Superior must supplant sapiens, as sapiens supplanted erectus," Magneto said, with that tired voice that reminded them both how trite it was to continually rehash old ground in the ethical debate they waged.

"There have been times when more than one branch of humanity flourished," Charles said anyway, with that dogged persistence Eric loved to see, yet regretted the direction of. "However..." Charles raised his hand to forestall the next step of the argument. "That old exchange is not why I am here today."

"It is not the why that I am most curious about," Eric told him, just as glad to not spend the afternoon fully mulling over the ideological differences with Charles.

"You would not be, Eric. You were always the more active one of us, obsessed with machinations rather than ideation or the effects of the causes." Charles stood from his chair. "Walk with me?" he invited.

"It would be a pleasure, I believe." Eric meant it, for a small part of him regretted the crippling that had confined Charles for so long. On the other hand, much of him had found cause to rejoice in having the sharpening stone of the paralysis applied to Charles' gifts, for what was a man measured by if not by those in opposition to him? 

Eric fell into stride with Charles, wending through the park to the botanical portion, with its flagstone walkways, and varied flowering plants from many places beyond this city he had taken residence in. They were much of a height, a factor that Eric had forgotten since Charles' confinement to the wheelchair. Only once they reached the nominal privacy of a bench near a burbling fountain did Charles seem inclined to converse once more, and that had given Eric plenty of time to take in the changes of age versus his memory of the younger Charles he would always carry in his mind.

"You asked 'how', and to you I will answer, though I am still debating the ethical situation I have found myself in," Charlies said as he leaned nonchalantly on the back of the bench, body canted toward Eric in candid openness. "My twin, who has never had true consciousness, but whose body was in the keeping of Doctor Moira MacTaggert, is actually who you see before you. Through some form of intervention, quite possibly that part of Jean's psyche that I had nurtured, I found myself possessing this body upon the destruction of my old one," Charles explained slowly.

"And now your conscience harps upon you for stealing the house of another man's soul," Eric scoffed at him, shaking his head when the look on Charles' face patently indicated he was correct in the matter. "You are quite ridiculous. The body of your brother was merely consuming resources without giving back anything to the world at large. Is that not anathema to your principles of personal responsibility?"

Charles tried to summon an argument against that, but Eric had cut through to the heart of the matter. At least this way, his brother's life was not in vain, and Charles could try and improve the condition of mutant-kind with the lessons of the most recent debacle so fresh in his mind. "I should inspect my sanity for the fact your words are those I accept as reassuring," Charles said with a wry twist of his lips.

Eric chuckled and nodded. "What lengths we have come through, to meet a new point that we may be as we if we were friends once more, Charles."

Charles looked at the man with him, letting the peace of the situation sink into his bones, and there was just a touch of the wistful in his voice, as he spoke. "We could try and make it last, Eric, with a middle road between us." 

Eric took in a deep breath, and then shook his head. "I remain unconvinced such a course exists." He then shifted, reaching out with one hand to lightly rest it on Charles' shoulder. "But, I do have lodging, and I remember you enjoyed my cuisine. Join me for at least the evening, and we will see what may come to pass?"  The offer was borne of a need to know his equal, to have companionship of worth for a change, not that dear Raven hadn't been good for such but she did not have the same depth of grounding in history he shared with this man.

Charles looked at the hand, then reached up with his opposite one, covering it. "I find myself looking forward to it," he accepted.

`~`~`~`~`

Both men pushed back from the dinner, freshly prepared by mostly Eric, though Charles had contributed some in making a tasty torte for them to share. It had felt so much like old times, with all politics and philosophy curbed by a mutual wish for companionship. They had spoken along matters of science and literature instead, keeping up a more friendly debate on the merits of their differing pursuits in both fields.

"That was as excellent as memory had served, Eric," Charles told him. "You've a better hand with keeping kosher than some I have met."

Eric squelched the instant stab of jealousy that anyone else would have been cooking his particular meals for Charles. They did not have that between them any longer, had not for so long that even Eric had to admit he had absolutely no right to feel murderous toward others Charles might have known, might have been touched by, loved by.... He jerked his thoughts into order, even if he knew Charles was not currently prying, because those were thoughts that did no justice to the situation at hand.  This was a prime opportunity to put his mind and spirit back at a center, to better prepare for the future. In many ways, it felt like a ritual, rewalking an old, known path to a branching of the ways, and deciding which path was the correct one this time. 

"I prefer to not poison my body more than necessary, with prepackaged and processed foods so commonplace now," Eric said instead of the more possessive retorts that had flitted through his mind. He concentrated on the utensils, pleased when he could make them all go to the sink. Charles gathered up the plates with a brief appreciation of the domestic application of the magnetic control, and carried them to add to the sink. He began running water, while Eric saw to putting away cooking supplies and leftovers.

Eric was amused by the idea of any of Charles' students seeing the scene play out, with is utter banality and quietly amiable atmosphere.  They would be certain he had exerted some esoteric malign influence over his old friend and constant nemesis. The quiet camaraderie had so far been rarely infringed on by the divide they existed on either side of. Eric was satisfied with the way the day had progressed, and turned to comment on it as he placed the last container in the refrigerator. 

His complete attention was arrested by the sight of Charles standing there, shirt sleeves rolled up above the elbows, collar open, and the concentration that was still peaceful and untroubled by the outside world as Charles focused on the dishes in his hands. The straight line of his body demanded to be seen, and Eric stepped away from the refrigerator to go ostensibly push both chairs in, just to savor the long lines of that back beneath the pristine cotton of both shirts Charles wore, the way the waist of the slacks drew in and accented the slender hips that flared down into fit legs. Charles had been exercising this body into careful health, supplemented by nutritional assistance to make up for life-long inactivity, and Eric could not help but appreciate what natural effort and modern science had gifted his friend with.

Neither of them were young men any longer, yet they wore the years they possessed with dignity, and carried strength in their bodies that many young men would be hard-pressed to rival. To see that Charles had a new chance to savor the freedom of physicality made Eric keenly desire a private celebration of that fact, and he was not long-accustomed to denying himself things he wished to do.

Without another attempt to resist his impulses, Eric crossed back to stand just behind Charles, dipping his head in toward that open collar where it gaped at the neck, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin there. He felt the tension of Charles back on his chest, heard the slight hitch of breath, and heard the hands cease motion in the sink as he did so. The rush of blood within Charles' veins was another thing he could feel, so faintly, as he touched the trace iron within.

"Eric," Charles began, but his seducer made a quietly shushing noise, and moved a new press of lips to just behind Charles' ear. "We shouldn't," Chalres managed to protest as he turned, one hand reaching for the tea towel nearby, his eyes troubled.

"Then why bother drying your hands, when there are still dishes to wash, old friend?" Eric's use of logic made Charles pause in the act of drawing his other hand to the towel to do so, and he looked down at it in momentary confusion. "You think too much at times, Charles. This is just about two men who have few peers in their history, let alone their present. Just for now, while we decide if that middle path exists."

"Always the persuasive one, Eric," Charles said, before tilting his head just so in invitation, one that Eric did not pass up as he leaned in and claimed the lips that were his one-time lover's and yet not.

The heat that had always simmered for them exploded in that kiss, with lips parting and the dueling of tongues as they each sought more of the other. The tea towel fell to the floor, hands sliding onto Eric's hips as Eric's strong hands came up to grip Charles by the shoulders, holding him just where he desired. A low, needy moan broke from one throat but spoke for both of them before the kiss was ended in a gasp of air.

"Any doubts now, Charles?" Eric asked him, not letting go.

"More than ever, Eric, but I'm not one for listening to them in this moment," Charles admitted.

Eric chuckled at him, but shifted, and slid an arm around Charles' shoulders to guide him to the bedroom. "Only you can complicate the purely physical moments of individuality shared," he said. His attention flared out toward the bedroom, pushing on the metal work of the knob, and using that tenuous grip of his powers to open the door ahead of their arrival. 

"And only you would blithely plunge ahead, heedless of the mutual distraction and danger this could be to us, should we not find a working compromise," Charles told him, but his steps never hesitated as he passed the threshold of Eric's private domain. 

Once within the room, Eric closed the door back, absently reaching out and being certain the other, outer doors were locked, though the reach took more effort than it ought to have, by his way of thinking. He stopped and slipped off his house shoes, stepping just enough away from Charles to watch and see how this would go now that they had committed to enjoying the desires they shared.

Charles took a long, slow breath, steadying himself by all appearances, and then reached up to begin unbuttoning the shirt he wore, all while Eric watched the slow, deliberate motions. Something in the way Charles moved, the resolute decision to do what he knew would be a poor choice come morning, made Eric want to be certain this night was worth the laying aside of differences. It was more than his hunger for his friend, his nemesis. It was about them, as men, not as principle-holders.

Once Charles had his shirt unbuttoned, but still hanging on his shoulders, Eric began removing his own clothing, the light sweater removed over his head and then the buttons on his own shirt were dealt with, but he kept his eyes on Charles. The way Charles' fingers handled the fasteners of the pants, the ripple of muscle revealed when Charles shucked off the undershirt, the grace with which Charles stepped free of the trousers to remain only in a pair of boxers.

Eric hastily finished stripping down so that he could be close again, eager to touch all that exposed skin, to explore, and eventually to possess the offering Charles was making of himself. Charles moved toward the bed, pausing to turn the covers down to the foot of the bed so they would not be in the way. As he climbed into the bed, Eric finished undressing, not even bothering to leave his briefs on. Charles seemed to appreciate that sight, watching Eric join him with open admiration in his eyes. 

"Modesty, Charles?" Eric asked, half-teasing, half-impatient at the boxers still in the way of everything Eric hungered for.

Charles laughed at him, and shifted to push the boxers off, dropping them next to the bed. "Always so eager, Eric?" Charles asked, voice flirty and deep with desire. His answer came in the physical response of his friend, lover, and enemy, as Eric rose up over him, body to body, pinning him to the mattress.

"For this, yes, Charles. I am human enough to admit to missing this." He kissed Charles then, a slow, deep claiming of his old prerogatives where Charles was concerned, and he let just enough of his mental guard down to invite the connection of Charles' mind to his own, enhancing all they felt by the sharing of each one's pleasure with the other. Charles, arching up physically, made that connection for them, gasping in the kiss as the strength of Eric's desire washed through him.

From there, fewer words and more thoughts of need and want came with every touch of hands on bodies, lips on skin, and the carefully fierce loving they shred well into the night.  Eric made certain Charles could feel the sincerity of what was shared between them, not wanting the purge of regret in the morning to besmirch the beauty of what they could be together.

`~`~`~`~`

The light filtering in told Eric that they had slept well into the morning, but the important factor was that it was a 'they' and not a 'him' alone. Charles' eyes opened not long behind his own coming alert to the room. 

"Morning, or possibly nooning," Eric said, a wry lift to his lips in admitting their laziness.

"The latter, I have a feeling," Charles said, unrepentant to his part in why they'd slept in. He shifted to sit up against the headboard, wincing a little, which just made Eric chuckle until he too felt the wear and tear on muscles so infrequently used these days when he attempted to sit up.

"Quite the workout," he decided to go ahead and say, which made Charles smile and nod, a half-laugh escaping him. Eric settled the covers down against their laps, and then looked over at Charles, seeing the lines of thought already furrowing relatively smooth skin that had never known the heavy brooding Charles was prone to. "And not likely to be repeated anytime soon?" Erik broached.

"Eric, much as last night was enjoyable, it was not quite what I intended on meeting with you," Charles said out loud, withdrawing fully into his own mind. 

"I do not doubt that." Eric shrugged. "But it is, at least, a sign we can share several hours in common without a need to either kill one another or at least strangle off the other's words?"

Charles laughed slightly. "There is that." He then grew serious, brow furrowed, and Eric gave him the quiet this next statement demanded. "Until we know where the middle road is, Eric, I think it best if we set this path to one side, before either of us hurts the other inadvertently, by pursuing our individual goals."

"And if there is no middle road, this path will be lost again for all time, yes, Charles?" Eric asked him soberly and with as neutral a tone as he could manage.

"If there is no middle road, Eric, this path is a true mistake, laden with grief bound to come to pass," Charles told him in turn.

Eric let the words sink in, considered his own future path as he saw it from here. He weighed all of the way Charles expected relations to work against his own beliefs, and then pushed the covers back to get up from the bed.

"You're welcome to stay for lunch," Eric replied, his mind already moving on past the pleasure and into the practical.

Charles heard and understood the message implicit in those words. "I'll use the spare bath," he said, also rising to find his clothing and set matters to the way they should be.

Eric nodded once, then went into his own bathroom, looking into the mirror. What he saw was only a man growing no younger, and what the night had given him made no difference. Charles was wrong, and Eric had a duty to his species, to see them safe and in ascendency.

All else was merely distraction, pleasant as it might have been.


End file.
